Faithless
by Rianiel
Summary: Instead of death, Melanie chose to survive for the sake of her unborn child but the hardships of the apocalypse threaten to destroy her. will she reunite with Daryl, the father, or will the Dead claim both mother and child? (Rated T for strong adult/mature themes.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been a lurker on this fandom for some time, and I thought I'd attempt a Walking Dead fic. Hopefully you guys like it. Comments and CC always welcome.**

**Chapter One: Up in Ashes. **

The ash had barely collapsed from the Virginia Slim, when the door slammed open, drenching the dank interior of the club in dusty sunlight. A loud curt, voice vented the air causing Melanie Buell to wince with ill-concealed irritation.

"Mel! MEL! You in here, woman?"

The woman named Mel frowned at the sound of her name and stubbed out her cigarette in the mouldering ashtray next to her on the bar. She crossed her legs on the stool and waited for her boss, Billy Mckenzie to find her in the dark shadows of the empty room. No doubt he wanted her to work a shift that night. It was a Tuesday, and nobody came mid-week save slavering old truckers stinking of stale-tobacco and axle grease.

"Dammit, Mel where are ya?"

The urgency in Billy's voice made Mel sigh. Perhaps he'd got into some trouble with the Knot-heads, a formidable biker gang who frequented his seedy joint every weekend. Often Mel would see them speaking in hushed voices in the dark corners of the club, a cloud of yellow smoke obscuring their bedraggled beards and Fu Munchu moustaches. She often liked them. They tipped generously, and overlooked the fact she was pushing thirty; an unappealing age to be a stripper. At this thought, Melanie unconsciously gazed at her reflection in the musty mirror behind the bar and saw the unkempt stranger staring back at her. Her eyes had lost their softness long ago, permanently hidden behind strands of hair, dried out through years of supermarket bleach. Melanie always knew she was no beauty, but her youth had suffocated through years of chain-smoking and alchohol. Yet the loss of her looks wasn't troubling her in this moment. Something much worse had happened, and Billy's incessant problems were the least of her concerns.

"There you are!"

She caught a whiff of bourbon, and Billy appeared beside her. With one hairy hand, he forced her to face him.

"Oh … hey," she said in a bored voice.

Billy's thick eyebrows formed one severe line. "What the hell you doing, woman! We gotta go!"

Melanie raised her eyebrows at his words. Well she wasn't expecting him to say that. "Go where, Billy? If you owe Charlie Hicks money again, I'm not interested."

She inwardly shuddered at the name. Charlie Hicks was her least favourite of the Knot-heads. He treated her the worst, but tipped her the most. As soon as Billy got wind of her small fortune, he threatened her into helping his money problems or he'd kick onto the street. Unfortunately for Mel, Billy was also her landlord. Every dollar she earned at "Boobie Bungalow" was preciously saved for her estranged son, Taylor. For fifteen years she would send him money in letters to an inconspicuous address she stole from the adoption agency. She would lament how much she loved him, and how giving him up had been the hardest decision of her life. She received no reply, but Melanie hoped Taylor had lead a better life than she; knocked up at fifteen, abandoned by a crack-head boyfriend and living with a mother who was in and out of jail. It was no life for a baby.

"The hell you on about woman!" Billy's angry voice dragged Melanie from her dark thoughts. "The whole town's gone fuckin' crazy!"

This was nothing new.

"So why you tellin' me?" Melanie sighed. "If you want me to work an extra shift tonight, I'll do it. Only if I get free drinks after work."

Billy pulled his moustache in irritation at her words. Melanie stared at him. "You don't understand, Mel. Shits really hit the fan this time! Some guy got attacked down Cooter Street and people have been riotin' and fleein' across town! They'll be here any minute!"

Melanie frowned and tried to make sense of his words. Okay, so this definitely wasn't new. She'd been sitting in the bar all afternoon, stealing shots of Smirnoff from behind the bar and pondering her future. For everything had now changed.

"Why should I care if a load of bone-headed idiots are trashin' the town? And why you tellin' me?" This was a good point. Billy often treated her like something slimy stuck to the bottom of his boot.

"Because …" Billy's skin had gone white beneath his dark beard. "Candice has – has been attacked … and … well she tried to _bite _my arm, God dammit! She'd gone fuckin' crazy! I – I only just got away. Everybody was going ape-shit. I tried to look for you at your flat, but it was empty so I knew you must have been here." His eyes rested on the half-empty bottle of Smirnoff.

Melanie felt her stomach drop. Candice was her closest friend. She was the reason she had a roof over her head, and a job after Melanie discovered her mother had overdosed.

"Why didn't you save her! Where is she?" She was on her feet now, her heart pumping tenfold.

"I – I don't know!"

"What do you mean, you don't know!"

"Mel, you weren't there. This is all different. The end o' the fuckin' world or something. All I know is we have to go. _Now."_

Billy grabbed Melanie's hand, but she tugged it free and slapped him hard. "Why the hell would I go anywhere with you!? You coward! How could you leave Candice!" Fury flashed across Billy's face, but Melanie didn't care. She felt the hot sting of angry tears, and yearned to smash a glass and plunge it in his neck. How could he leave Candice to a violent mob? How could he!

There was a shuddering bang from the street, and a solid object smashed through the window, wiping out all angry thoughts from Melanie's mind. She screamed, as the flaming brick narrowly missed her face. A storm of frantic yelling and crying thundered closer, shaking the gaudy chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.

"FUCK THIS!" roared Billy. With surprising agility for a man of fifty, he jumped behind the bar and grabbed a shotgun. A bloody arm appeared snake-like through the smashed window, clawing at the sharp glass without a wince of pain. A pallid face materialised, smeared with blood and snarling like a rabid dog. It was a young man, but his entire body had become taut and animalistic. Melanie was frozen to the spot, and before she could scream, Billy blasted the man through the head.

"NOW DO YOU SEE WHY WE HAVE TO GO!?"

Billy's voice seemed to pierce the stupor of horror filling every fibre in Melanie's body. Her brain was telling her to run, but her legs had forgotten their use. Another face appeared, growling with carnal fury, blood dripping from it's mouth. An old lady, but her eyes were blood-red and was missing an arm. _A missing arm for God's sake!_

There was another loud bang, and the lady collapsed to the floor with a dull finality. As if in a dream, Melanie felt herself being carried away and watched dimly as more people began to crawl through the window and swarm around the bar where she had sat moments ago.

Before she knew it, she was strapped in the passenger seat of Billy's red truck. In the wing-mirror she saw him quickly packing a bag from the stock-room with food and bullets. Was this all really happening? Maybe she was stuck in a stuporous sleep, passed out in the safety of her flat. Or maybe she had already died.

"Right, I've packed us some gear." Billy leapt behind the wheel, jerking Melanie out of her reverie back to dark, crude reality.

"Where are we going?" Melanie asked him in a hollow voice, ignoring the screaming which was growing louder.

"South. I think every jerk around here has got the same idea, so we're travelling down some country short-cuts." The engine growled into life, and Billy reversed the truck knocking over one of the crazed people. He merely shrugged, and rolled over the corpse without remorse, grinning at the crunching noise beneath the wheels. Melanie winced and curled into a foetal position against the door, clinging onto one of Billy's old fleeces. Part of her brain was grateful she was in the solid safety of Billy's huge truck, but the rest of her mind was a nightmarish haze of snarling teeth and gun-shots.

"Hey. _Hey!_"

Melanie felt Billy shake her arm and she slowly raised her head. Tears were leaking silently down her face.

"What?"

"I guess you are wonderin' why the heck I looked for ya," he asked gruffly.

Melanie merely shrugged. She didn't really care anymore.

"Well if you must know_ …_ it's cus I found _this _lyin' on your bathroom floor."

He produced a thin, white object from his jeans and gave it to Melanie who gazed at it silently. It was her positive pregnancy test she had done that morning. She expected her stomach to fill with the old acidic dread, but felt nothing.

"So what." She tossed the test on the floor, and stared out the window; the last few rays of sunshine were spreading across the horizon. "I'm guessin' you want me to thank you for savin' my ass."

"That would be appreciated," growled Billy curtly, glancing sideways at Melanie's stiff form. "Not so much of a bastard now, am I?"

"That's still debatable"

Billy chuckled mirthlessly at her words, and clapped her shoulder in a patronising fashion.

"So who's the father then, Melly? Some poor scumbag from the Knot-heads?"

She flinched at his bluntness. The question caught her off-guard, and her brain struggled to find the right words. Truth was, Billy hated the father of her unborn baby with a passion and if she admitted she had slept with one of his sworn enemies, he would surely abandon her right that second. He may have saved her ass, but he was still a man with loose morals. She knew Billy had saved her because like all men, he fancied the look of her breasts and nothing deeper.

Selfish cunt.

Her best bet was to act like the white-trash she was made out to be.

"I don't know, Billy. I've slept with so many men it could be anyones."

Billy practically whooped with laughter. "Well why doesn't that surprise me! But don't you worry, I'll look after your sorry ass from now on. Ain't nowhere else for you to go. Ain't nobody else who'll want ya."

His words stung and Melanie fought the pathetic tears clawing her eyes, and stared unseeingly out of the grimy window. Billy was right. The world had gone to shit, and her only friend was a perverse, overweight strip-club owner with the emotional range of a pinhead. Candice was gone, her son was gone and the father of her unborn child was definitely gone.

**The previous morning. **

The impatient rapping on the door, made Melanie drop the plastic pregnancy test in alarm. Cursing, she hastily threw it on a shelf, grabbed her pink flannel dressing gown and hurried to the door. It was Daryl, and she unconsciously brushed away the flyaway strands of her unbrushed hair. Breathing deeply, she opened the door.

"Hey," she said, forcing a wide smile. "Thought you weren't comin' over till two."

The man called Daryl, shook his head slightly in exasperation.

"Merle?"

"Merle."

"Come on in."

Daryl risked a shy grin, and Melanie stepped aside to let him through. Her expression suddenly became tense as Daryl hovered near the bathroom. She had to hide the test.

"He got into another fight with the Wilson brothers, last night." Daryl began as he flopped himself onto one of the sunken chairs. It sagged pitifully under his weight.

"Again?" Melanie sympathised, locking the door and keeping a vigil on Daryl's position.

"Yeah, I know. They beat the crap outta him, and I was the one to bail him out. Again."

"Is he alright?" She sat down on the arm of the chair, lighting a Marlboro and crossing her legs. She watched Daryl's eyes slowly wander up to her breasts.

"Yeah," Daryl grunted, his gaze flying back to hers. "It's Merle."

She smiled, and absentmindedly combed her hand through his hair. He sighed at her touch, and Melanie stopped herself before she got carried away. Daryl had that hold of her, no man ever had. He was probably the best-looking man for miles, and despite his surly demeanour, he'd treated her with a kindness she thought was lost forever. It baffled her how different Daryl was to his older brother. She'd heard talk of the Dixon brothers for years, and saw Merle holding court every Saturday, up to his eyeballs in booze and breasts. One night, Merle dragged along an extremely reluctant Daryl for his birthday, and paid Melanie for a lap-dance in a private booth. It was all going well, until Merle produced a small bag of white powder from his leather waist-coat. He offered a rolled up dollar-bill to Daryl, who looked extremely reluctant.

"Oh come on, baby brother, it's your birthday ..." Merle's wicked eyes flew to Melanie, who was backing away. "You ain't going nowhere, darlin' And it's not like you never tried this stuff before ..."

He was right. Melanie had fought drugs most of her life, buying from sleazy drug-lords like Merle Dixon. In dire situations, payment wasn't always cash.

"Come on, missy ..."

Melanie backed up. If she was forced to the take the drugs, she would be ruined and Billy would black-list her from every strip-club across the county. It was one of the worst moments of her life. Merle still had his beady eyes fixed on hers. "I ain't payin' two hundred dollars for you to stand there, woman. Either you join us, or I'll _make _you!"

Melanie gasped loudly, and Merle sprung to his feet in alarm.

"Shut the hell up, you whore!" he hissed, striding towards her. His sweaty fingers found her throat, and Melanie instinctively kicked him in the groin. Screaming in pain, Merle made to swing his fist at Melanie's face but Daryl swiftly intervened, pinning his furious brother against the wall. A split-second later, the curtains ripped open and Billy and the bouncer - a bear-of-a-man named Hal - appeared and dragged both the brothers outside, kicking them to death. Melanie was stunned at Billy's overreaction but later discovered her boss had a personal vendetta against Merle Dixon who was responsible for the death of his previous wife. She overdosed, and Billy vowed to get his revenge.

But Melanie knew Daryl was different. Had he not protected her? She saw the younger and more honourable Dixon again two weeks after the attack in a small diner in town, and shyly thanked him for defending her. He looked extremely awkward but nodded all the same. Melanie thought that was the last she'd seen of Daryl Dixon, until she clocked him alone at the bar when Billy was out of town. The club had just closed, and she cautiously approached him; intrigued by his presence. Small-talk turned into conversation, and conversation turned into a bonding session over the hardships of their lives, unaware it was the start of something new.

After a few months, Daryl plucked up the courage to ask her for a drink but Melanie refused on the grounds of her job. But after mulling it over, and fed up of waking up sick with loneliness, she accepted. They'd dated for three years, having sex without the fear of her being pregnant. Daryl was convinced he shot blanks, having failed to conceive in a previous long-term relationship. Until now.

"So, I ain't seen you much for the past two-weeks," Daryl said, fiddling with the hem of her dressing-gown. "Everything okay?"

Melanie's stomach flipped. True, she had been avoiding Daryl due to constant morning sickness and migraines. Never did she think it was because of pregnancy.

"Yeah … just been a bit poorly, ya know." She got to her feet, and unnecessarily patted down her hair. "Hey … why don't you grab a Bud, I'm going to put my face on."

Daryl shrugged, and slouched off to the kitchen as she raced to the bathroom. Her eyes flew to the shelf where she'd put the test but it was gone.

"Shit … shit … shit … shit ..."

Panicking, she bent down and began scrambling around on the floor, looking under the cupboard and behind the toilet.

"You okay … what's this?"

Her heart stopped. Two scuffed boots stood in the doorway, and Melanie stared up in horror as Daryl squinted at the pregnancy test in his hands.

"It's … it's nothing."

She rose slowly, as Daryl's face clouded with comprehension. Silence sailed by, and Daryl clenched the pregnancy test in his hand as if it would fly out the window.

"Who's is it?"

"Sorry?"

The words caught her off-guard. Surely, he didn't think she had slept with another man! She laughed slightly at the absurdity of the situation, but this turned out to be a big mistake. The colour was rising in Daryl's cheeks and his eyes were burning with anger.

"_Whose is it!"_

Melanie felt herself trembling. "It's yours, Daryl! I swear! The test might even be faulty, I -"

"No wonder you've been hidin' for weeks, ya stupid bitch. Been sleepin' behind my back! My brother was right about you, nothin' but a whore!" He threw the test at the wall in disgust and strode up in front of her, his hands outstretched.

"You're going to listen to _Merle?"_ Melanie implored desperately, "I ain't cheated on you! I would never hurt you."

Daryl lowered his hands. A combination of sheer sadness and anger battled on his face. For a moment, he simply looked at her.

"God dammit, I loved you, Mel."

Melanie sank to the floor, her body shaking with paroxysms of grief. So this was it. This was the end. He left her sobbing, exiting the flat in a wave of fury. That was the last time Melanie ever saw Daryl. The next day, her decision to drown her sorrows in Boobie Bungalow saved her life but at what cost? If the world had really ended, what future lay in carrying a baby?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! I wasn't expecting such a positive response! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed and visited this story! I hope you like this chapter, and as always - let me know what you think! Also, I hope I've nailed Daryl's and Merle's relationship in this chapter. Honest criticism is always appreciated and encouraged. Anyways, enjoy! **

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**Chapter Two: That Leering Lucifer**

"Got you now, you son-of-a-bitch," Daryl muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes down the bolt of his crossbow.

Lingering just out of sight, behind the dense branches of a cedar tree was a young buck he'd tracked for several miles. He breathed deeply, allowing the composting aromas of the decaying foliage roll over his tongue and electrify his senses. He was in full predator mode, and all that mattered in this moment, was him and the young deer ten feet in front of him. It was to be his best kill in weeks, and preparing the animal for food would distract him from his thoughts, and ease some of the pain constricting his chest.

He knew a few good shots of thirty-year old whiskey would quench the fire in his belly but Daryl had a weakness for the amber liquid. He rarely got drunk, but on this occasion he'd been dangerously close. Melanie's betrayal had thrown him into a rage so powerful, he'd marched all the way to his trailer without realising the palms of hands were bleeding from his clenched fists. He yearned to punch someone, to kick some poor soul to death but instead Daryl confronted the drinking cabinet.

He was about to to steal his father's 1981 Vintage when Merle's cold, mocking laughter filled his ears. "Go on then, dummy. Drink. Choose the pussy way out!" The voice solidified into the form of his older brother, crouching on a bed and watching him stealthily. He was wearing a shit eating grin, coaxing him to drink, get into a fight and deal with the guy who screwed him over. A fight sounded highly tempting, but Daryl knew better. He had more self-control than his brother, and hunting was the only way to clear his mind – at least for the moment.

The bushes rustled, and Daryl tightened his grip on the crossbow.

He could almost taste his kill.

Sweat ran down his back, as his biceps trembled with anticipation. His fingers were just about to release the bolt, when a loud crashing to his left alerted him to an unwelcome intruder. The leering lucifer of his thoughts materialised through the trees, a wicked grin spread across his face.

Daryl swore loudly, as the deer's head pricked up at Merle's arrival, swivelling it's ears back and forth rapidly, before vanishing through the vegetation like a ghost.

Almost immediately, his composure broke, and he rounded on his brother like a wolverine.

"The hell you doing, Merle? I was tracking that buck for three miles!"

Merle barely flinched. He simply laughed at his brother's anger, but this only incensed Daryl further, as he knew it would. "Calm down baby brother, I know your hunting trails like the back of my hand. I've been looking for ya everywhere."

Daryl's jaw tightened in irritation. "What for?" He didn't care what Merle had to say. No doubt it was about some dodgy deal he'd cooked up with his cronies. "Obviously, I was huntin' if I ain't in the trailer."

Merle sighed. "Yeah ... anyways, I heard some interesting news from the Wilson brothers this afternoon down at Smither's Place. Wanna tell me the hell's going on?"

Daryl pursed his lips, and he could feel a hot flush crawl up his neck. "It's nothing," he said finally. "And I ain't tellin' you jack shit!" He was tired, he was angry and especially frustrated at losing his kill. It took all his self-restraint not to punch his brother in the face who was eyeing him with faint amusement.

"What?" said Daryl, as Merle hovered silently around him. "The hell you want, Merle? You made me lose my kill, godammit." The humidity was wearing him down, and judging by the position of the sun in the sky, it was getting late.

"It's that stripper, ain't it?"

"What? No!" Daryl blurted out, without meeting Merle's eyes.

"Sure it is." Merle took a step-closer, his eyes glittering maliciously. "She fucked you over, didn't she?"

Daryl unconsciously stroked the shaft of his hunting knife, but Merle eased back into his old wicked grin. "Aw c'mon baby brother, answer me. She fucked you over?"

A muscle was beginning to tick in Daryl's jaw, and he could feel the anger threatening to break free. He knew that was what Merle wanted.

"So what?" he spat. "She's a stupid bitch, and I'm over her!"

Merle was now openly laughing. The old, mocking laughter which taunted Daryl for years. "I fuckin' knew it! Jesus, Daryl, she made a fool out of you and ya up here huntin' like a pussy. What the hell is wrong with ya?"

Daryl's temple began to throb. What right did Merle have to question his mood? The man was a menace, a dead-beat who'd sneered at his relationship with Melanie from day one, just thinking it was another fling but Merle had no idea. Melanie had been the first woman Daryl had truly respected. Yes, he'd had countless girlfriends in the past, but nobody knew him like Melanie. The woman had saved him from a dark place, but now what they had was gone. He was a fool to think it was going to last; there was no happy-endings for the Dixon's. Love was for idiots, and he wasn't going to let Merle remind him. Not over this. This was his problem.

"Nothin' is wrong with me," he replied stiffly. "It's my business, now leave me alone."

Merle's gloating smile vanished.

"Fine," he said in a low voice. "I guess ... I'm fuckin' ashamed to call you my brother if your'e gonna let some hooker make a fool out of you. You should of listened to me from the start; if you think a stripper likes you, then you're going to have a bad time. You a fuckin' pussy, Darylena. A fuckin' _coward."_

Daryl's eyes flew to Merle's face at the last word. He unsheathed his knife and was about to press the blade to Merle's throat when he saw the triumphant smile unfurling across his cheeks. "I ain't no coward!" he hissed, "if you're so damn clever, the hell do I sort this out?"

"Find this guy!" Merle replied, easing Daryl away from him. "Knock his fuckin' lights out! Beat his ass onto the street! And if you don't know who it is, force that whore of yours to tell ya!" Daryl saw him stroke his knuckles, and suppressed a shudder. Despite Melanie's infidelity, he would never lay a hand on her. He still felt guilty for almost choking her.

"I don't care who it is," he quipped, sheathing his knife as Merle groaned at his words. "I'll deal with this my own way."

This was his own personal problem, and for once he didn't care if Merle disowned him or beat him unconscious.

For years he'd seen his older brother and father beat women over the smallest things, and it made him to sick to the core. "The Dixon Way" Merle proudly called it, as if being a Dixon made you practically royalty of the trailer park. Over the years, Merle had always said his bullying was to "toughen him up," but Daryl knew differently. Daryl put up a lot from Merle, but he truly despised his older brother for mocking his infertility. It was common knowledge Merle had fathered several bastards in town to any woman he could bend over a table, but that was as far as it went. Daryl would become the Pope, the day Merle started paying child support.

"So that's how it is," said Merle sourly. "You think you're better than me and everyone else, cus you ain't going to beat some sense into a couple of idiots?"

"You're damn right," snarled Daryl.

For a moment Merle simply looked at him but without warning he punched Daryl squarely in the nose, spat on his boots and left the clearing without so much as a backward glance.

Daryl staggered, quickly ripping a piece of clothing to stem the blood gushing from his nose. He was no stranger to pain, but Merle's notorious right-hand hook had knocked him for six. "Thanks a lot, you bastard," he muttered, as he dabbed the wounded area. "Still, looks like you didn't get the reaction you wanted." He smiled weakly at this thought, just as a ripple of thunder brought him back to earth. Dark clouds were billowing across the sky, threatening rain. The temperature had dropped, and a storm was rolling in. It would be impossible to track deer, and the rain would smother their trails. His only option was to head back to the trailer park and avoid his brother who would no-doubt be hitting the local bars to drown his anger in a pitcher of Keystone, yapping to his cronies about his "pussy" brother.

Daryl snorted at the thought. He maybe a Dixon, but he was no fool.

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Darkness had almost fallen when he neared the outskirts of the trailer park. The hazy orange glow hanging over Deersville was suddenly punctuated with flashing lights and the wail of sirens. Skywards, he thought he could hear the low rumble of approaching machinery. What the hell was going on? Knowing he ought to check on Merle (who was most likely involved in the commotion, and for all his quirks, was still his brother) he ran the down the hill to the trailer park. What he saw stunned him beyond belief; people were running in all directions like flailing insects as families packed their trucks and torched their trailers.

Avoiding a group of teenagers with makeshift flamethrowers, he sprinted to his own trailer and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Merle hauling bags of weapons onto the back of their father's old chevrolet.

"Merle! What the hell is going on!?"

Merle leapt down from the trailer, excitement buzzing off him like a effervescence. "Woo! It's fuckin' Armageddon baby brother! Whole town has gone bat-shit. We're leaving. Now."

It was as if their fight in the woods had never happened. Some dark, awful nightmare had reared it's ugly head, determined to punish him for some unknown reason. He'd lost his girlfriend, fought with his brother and now this …

"What?" he yelled, ignoring the sinking sensation in his stomach. "What's happened?!"

"I dunno! Some guys tried to jump on me when I went to the gas-station! Looked drugged up to their eyeballs. They attacked some lady and her kid and started biting their god-damned legs! Now the whole town's like it!"

Daryl's brain physically hurt as he processed this information. If the whole town had plunged into chaos, then Melanie was in real danger, if not worse. His thoughts must have appeared on his face, as Merle was shaking his shoulders.

"You ain't going after that hooker, baby brother! I passed by Boobie Bungalow and the whole place was up in flames."

"What! God-dammit, Merle!" shouted Daryl, aghast and pushing his brother away. "Lock the trailer, i'm driving down there."

"No you fuckin' aint!"

"Yes, I fuckin' well am! You don't understand! And you ain't stoppin' me!"

Merle looked outraged, but Daryl could tell Merle knew he meant business. Their fight in the forest had proven that. The older Dixon relented, and handed over the keys.

"If I die for that _whore, _I will never forgive you," he hissed in his ear as they buckled up in the truck. Daryl ignored him, and the two brothers sped away from the burning trailer park.

The town was worse than Daryl thought; the sky was ablaze with smoke and burning embers, swirling wildly about as they consumed all in their path. Anarchy reigned. Shops, cafe's and diners were all trashed as people looted for supplies, fighting groups of crazed people. They passed one horrific scene where a man lay face-down in a pool of blood, his entrails smeared across the side-walk. After what felt like an age, Daryl swerved up to Melanie's block of flats but saw that her apartment was torched alight.

"I'm going in," he said automatically, unbuckling his seatbelt but Merle stopped him.

"She's gone, baby brother," he said.

There was no humour nor hint of derision in his voice, and Daryl knew he was right. There was nothing he could do, and the only thing that mattered was escaping the chaos. He allowed himself to be shoved into the passenger seat, as Merle kicked the engine into life. They were lucky, as a horde of people were pelting down the street, screaming for their lives.

"We ain't helpin' them baby brother. They'll steal our weapons and the truck. It's just you and me now. Just like it's always been."

Daryl simply nodded. His hands were shaking. For the first time, Merle had the sense not to mock him, and they swiftly drove down one of the few empty streets away from the devastation.

It was just him and Merle now.

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**So what do you think? Good, bad, ****ugly? :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I've been on a roll with this story for the past few days, especially with all the good feedback I'm getting. It was nice to write about Melanie and Billy again, and so I present to you chapter 3 ... **

**Also, I'm looking for a beta, someone who can correct any punctuation and grammar issues. If you're interested, please let me know! **

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**Chapter Three: Haven**

The static crackling of the radio jerked Melanie awake. Panicking, she instinctively reached for a small penknife lying on the dashboard, before letting her arm droop in relief when she realised she was safely locked in Billy's truck. The man himself was sat beside her, portly belly resting on the steering wheel, neck thrown back and snoring loudly. His Fu Munchu moustache bristled with each breath, and Melanie idly watched it's progress for a second before punching his arm.

"Billy," she whispered. "I heard the radio … People were talking …"

Billy grunted, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He gazed blearily at Melanie who was determinedly twisting the stereo's buttons to get a better signal.

"Just your lack of sleep catchin' up with ya, Melly," he said, failing to stifle a huge yawn. "Ain't been nothin' on any channel for days now."

"Didn't they say Atlanta was a Safe Zone?"

Billy shrugged his huge shoulders. "I'd think it might be, being the capital an' all but Atlanta is miles away. The rate we're going, it'd take us at least a month to get there."

Melanie suppressed a groan, and caught sight of her reflection in the window. Her bob-cut hair was lank and greasy, and the bags under her eyes were a deep purple. The past few days had been a nightmarish haze of camping out in remote fields, drinking old water and energy bars and avoiding civilisation entirely. Melanie had thought Billy was crazy at first, but when a random straggler attacked the truck in the middle of the night, he swiftly produced an impressive CFB tanto knife, and struck the assailant through the head without a flicker of remorse. Melanie had watched this horrific exchange from the truck, and when Billy returned she was beside herself.

"You killed him!" she hissed at him, as Billy calmly wiped his hands with a rag. "He was just a young guy … he ..." her words faded into nothingness, as Billy fixed her with a steely glare.

"Did that son-of-a-bitch look like he needed any help? Snarlin' and growlin' like they were back at Boobie Bungalow?"

Melanie shook her head numbly. That had been the first she'd encountered one of those _things _since fleeing Deersville. They were people, but they seemed to be gripped by some kind of disease which turned them into rabid, flesh-eating monsters. Billy simply said they were "Zombies" and that the "Day of Reckoning" was now upon them, but Melanie didn't care what the hell they were, as long as there was plenty of distance between them and her. She remembered how a young woman was staggering down Deersville high-street with no arms, without any sign of pain. Her filmy eyes had shone with a strange, insatiable hunger which Melanie had only ever seen in the wild animals Daryl hunted.

Deep down, she knew there would come a time when she would have to defend herself; she was a grown woman and Billy was not her babysitter. Even in the darkest moments of her life she had always survived, but violence was not in her nature. The thought of wielding a knife or firing a gun filled her with dread, but she knew there was no other way.

The world was plunged into chaos, and despite the mutual dislike between her and Billy, she was thankful for him looking after her … as best he could.

"A whole month," sighed Melanie. "We don't have enough supplies … or gas." She peered through the window and she could see a green tinge on the horizon. Dawn was approaching, which was their cue to leave their current camping spot.

"We'll find some," Billy replied gruffly.

Melanie knew he was under pressure, but she was desperate for a shower or some food other than stale energy bars. Her pregnancy had severely affected her appetite and she craved a baguette filled with every carb imaginable and packet of Marlboros.

As was their protocol, Billy exited the truck to check the close was clear, then opened Melanie's door so she could safely relieve herself in the field, as he unconcernedly went beside the truck. Double-checking the tires and frowning at the gas-levels, Billy kicked the engine into life and they drove away from the deserted field.

She was about to fall asleep, when she realised they were heading towards the highway.

"Where we goin', Billy?" she asked him worriedly. "I thought you said the highways were dangerous."

"I thought so too, until we've heard fuck-all on the radio. I think it's worth the risk."

Melanie steadied her breathing, as they turned onto the highway only to find it completely deserted. There was a few cars on the opposite lanes, eerily still and packed with suitcases. In the weak morning sunlight, she thought she could make out the silhouette of a family.

"We going to nick their stuff?" she asked Billy, as he stopped the truck. She expected him to say yes, but he merely pulled out a map and tracked their position with a pudgy finger.

"We're on Route 34, so that would lead us to … aha!" he indicated to a large green patch on the map which Melanie could just make out the words, "Luxury Forest Lodges." All she knew about those places is that they belonged to rich old couples who wanted a local retirement home and couldn't afford a villa abroad. It was also a possible breeding ground for those _creatures _if the virus was as contagious as she thought.

"No," she said flatly. "That place will be overrun."

"We don't know that, do we?" Billy replied, gritting his teeth. "Them lodges have everything, from food to gas and a nearby lake where I could get some fish."

Melanie snorted. "Never knew you could fish."

Billy ignored her, and without another word accelerated the truck and drove at break-neck speed down the highway. They passed even more abandoned cars, piled up in neat rows as if waiting at a red-light which would never change. Sometimes, smoke would be smouldering from the hoods but Melanie put it to the blistering Georgian heat.

An hour later, they arrived at their destination.

A large wooden sign protruded from the entrance beside an empty ticket box. They were about to drive down the dirt-track to the cabins, when something caught her eye. A strange black mass was moving in the booth, and she put a hand out to stop Billy from driving. Ignoring Billy's tuts of impatience, she wound down the window and peered into the ticket-box.

"The hell is that?"

"Fuck knows. Can we go now?"

Melanie knew they couldn't stay for too long, but the dark object intrigued her. A strange smell lingered, and she gave a gasp of horror as the rotting corpse of an old man swinging from a noose came into focus. His blank eyes gazed at her, his slack jaw lolling grotesquely on his chest. _So it really is happening … _she thought aghast, as Billy pulled her back and continued on their journey into the forest. _People are just giving up … there is no hope … _

Her spine was tingling as they travelled deeper into the Luxury Lodges estate. Fortunately, the place seemed abandoned but that wasn't until one of the creatures staggered out onto the road from the trees. Melanie screamed as the thing hit her window, and fell onto the ground snarling in a pool of it's own blood.

Billy screeched the breaks. It was no secret he had a burning hatred for those things after they destroyed his business and livelihood. Without saying a word, he shoved his military knife into Melanie's shaking hands and produced a 38 inch speargun from the backseat.

"Just a moment," he said, slamming the door.

He marched towards the creature as it struggled to it's feet, and promptly shot a bold through it's head. Like the others, it fell pitifully to the ground. When he returned, he was wearing a huge grin.

"Knew this baby would come in useful," he said, stroking the speargun fondly.

Melanie simply stared at him, and didn't say a word until they pulled over to what seemed the remotest lodge on the complex. It was situated up a long, steep embankment which even Melanie could tell would be a struggle for any creature, living or dead.

"This ought to do," Billy mused lightly, as if they were on a couple's holiday. "There's a sheer drop around the cabin, and if we hole up here for a while, I can put some large fencing up around the driveway."

"Sounds all peachy-keen to me, _sweetie," _Melanie replied sourly. She was still severely shaken after seeing the body of an old man, and watching one of those things die in a matter of minutes. Her nerves were shot, and a sharp pain was spreading across her abdomen.

"That's the spirit," Billy grinned.

Melanie threw him a filthy look. "Listen, I suggest we check this cabin isn't full of zombies or whatever. I -" she doubled over in pain, as her stomach gave another nasty twinge. Billy ran over looking concerned but Melanie waved him off. "If you don't check that cabin, Billy I swear to God I will kill you myself!"

Her hormonal rage merely made Billy chuckle. He unloaded a large bag of weapons he'd stashed away in his truck, and gave Melanie his military knife as he loaded up his precious speargun. She looked at it hesitantly.

"You don't have to use it," said Billy testily as he tightened his speargun and buckled a huge machete to his waist. "Just stick close to me."

They both cautiously approached the porch, and peered through the large glass windows which spanned the front of the building. Huge muslin curtains obscured the interior, but Billy crept to the front door which creaked open at his touch. Melanie breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing she wanted was them to break down the door to a room full of those freaks. They slowly crept inside, listening intently for any noise but the living-room was completely empty. Long shadows fell across the chintz furniture and designer kitchen, but nothing stirred in the gloom.

"Seems good so far," whispered Billy, as they shut the door slowly behind them. "You stay down here, while I check upstairs."

Melanie was grateful for his words, and longingly eyed the squishy sofa facing a huge plasma TV. She was about to go over, when a low, threatening voice broke the strained silence like a bullet.

"Stay where you are, or I'll blast a hubcap-size hole through both of yas."

Melanie froze, and Billy jumped a foot in the air as the door to a large closet opened and a dark figure materialised, pointing two guns squarely in their faces.

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**So what do you think? Please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note:**

Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story so far. I've had some serious doubts about this story, that's why I've not updated for a while but its'a habit of mine to drop a story if it doesn't seem to be doing that well, and I lose all motivation. That's the truth guys! I'm sure a lot of other people can relate to this. I thrive on the constructive reviews, not the reviews where it simply says "update soon"as I aim to improve and grow as a writer. Anyway, I cautiously present to you chapter four.

Let me know what you think, if you have a spare moment. I greatly appreciate it!

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**Chapter Four: Growth. **

For a moment, Melanie stared down the barrel in silent fear, sweat diffusing on her brow. She risked a glance at Billy, whose face was locked on the advancing figure bathed in shadow, the tip of their weapons glinting in the shreds of sunlight. Finally, she found her voice and retreated several paces.

"Don't shoot, we don't mean no harm. We just looking for a place to stay."

The shadowy figure paused, but the guns remained stationary. Melanie could almost the Billy's high-blood pressure rising with sheer frustration at being cornered so easily. His beady eyes were darting about, looking for an escape route.

The shadowy figure didn't reply, but slowly revealed themselves. They shook off a long shawl, and Melanie and Billy exchanged looks of surprise; stood before them was a squat, elderly woman. She was a small, dainty creature with arms like match-sticks and ankles swollen with arthritis and mosquito bites. A bush of unkempt silver hair shrouded her thin, wrinkled face where a pair of deep-set brown eyes glared coldly at Melanie and Billy. Her shrunken frame was shrouded in a large boiler-suit, belted with an overlarge, leather utility belt.

"Don't let my appearance fool ya," she snarled as a grin begun to unfurl on Billy's face. "I've probably killed more of them Geeks you can probably count to."

Billy's smile vanished. "Listen lady, we ain't a threat. You lower them guns. I ain't been shittin' in ditches the past few weeks for some old bag on a power trip, thinkin' she can teach me a lesson."

"You're boyfriend's quite charming," the old lady shot at Melanie who was cringing at Billy's tone. He always made situations difficult with his vile temper. "Shall I shut his ass up?" she poised both guns at Billy's moustache, but Melanie stepped forward, heart racing. She was tired, she was hungry and she was fed up of Billy.

"Look, we've had it rough. We just need somewhere to stay for a short while to rest, so we can plan our next move."

The old lady rolled her eyes. "We've all had it rough missy. Had to kill my own husband, but … ain't you pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"Hell of a time to be knocked up … especially by that moron."

"He ain't the father," Melanie replied trying to laugh as Billy opened his mouth in fury.

"There's hope for humanity yet," the old woman muttered.

Billy took a step forward, his teeth gritted in anger and colour rising in his cheeks. "_Look here, _lady," he hissed with suppressed anger. "There's a lot of other people out there who won't bother asking for your permission, even if they got two guns pointed at them. It's everyone for themselves out there, and we ain't going to be become the lower peckin' order."

The old lady slowly drank in his words, and finally lowered her guns. "I ain't afraid of jackshit, mister," she replied coldly. "I know the world and I've known men like you my whole life, but I'm lettin' ya stay only because she's with child."

Relief passed over Melanie like a wave; she could feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes, and without askance, flopped onto the couch. Her exhaustion melted away as the pain in her feet subsided, but her stomach continued to throb with pain. She gazed across the room and saw Billy nod grudgingly at the old lady as she explained her terms, but sleep soon consumed her. Blissful, painless sleep. By the time she awoke, it was nightfall and the delicious smell of meat filled up the lodge. She sat up, and saw the old lady preparing a makeshift fire in the centre of the room, frying slabs of beef.

Melanie felt her mouth drool. She couldn't remember the last time she ate proper food. "They smell amazing."

The old lady cocked her head up. "Well you need to keep your appetite. You're too skinny."

Melanie sighed. "Maybe … thanks for taking us in by the way."

"It ain't no problem … I was gonna let yas, just had to deal with shit-for-brains over there," she gestured to a dark mass in the corner snoring away. "Had to know his place."

"Your'e probably the first woman to do so." She failed to stifle a huge yawn, and curled up with a cushion staring into the fire. How strange it was to be sitting in such comfortable surroundings, when everyone and everything she had known was now lost. She had been too busy trying to survive to worry about her troubles, but now every known turmoil was resurfacing like an infected wound. It made her sick with anguish everytime she recalled her last meeting with Daryl, and to think he was now -

"Here, drink this."

The old lady shoved a mug of coffee into Melanie's hands and she drank it greedily. It tasted delicious, and her stomach grumbled for more.

"I can tell something's really troublin' ya, missy. It's quite easy to tell with pregnant women."

Melanie's glance flew to the old lady's. "It's nothing. I don't even know your name."

"Doris Simpson, and if you're now living here for a while we may as well get to know each other. I emigrated from Poland when I was five, lived through two world wars … worked the rest of my life as an engineer."

Melanie shuffled uncomfortably, but realised the walls' of society no longer existed. The Melanie who worked at Boobie Bungalow was long dead. "Okay … whatever … It's Melanie Buell, ex-stripper, junkie, got pregnant at fifteen, never been married and now carrying a baby whose father thinks I cheated on him."

She expected Doris to frown, but the wizened matriach merely smiled. "No point in livin' in regret, honey. What's happened, happened. We just have keep on going and keep on surviving."

"Why? Why the hell would anyone want to raise a child in this world? The father is long dead, and wants nothin' to do with me."

"So he was a shmuck … deadbeat - "

"No … no he isn't - wasn't." Melanie's stomach twinged as they began to broach the subject, which had nothing to do with her pregnancy. "He was … the love of my life. Yeah, he came from bad stock, but this guy was different. His only bad side was his temper … on the night before the world went to shit, he found my pregnancy test and thought I was cheatin' on him, because he shot blanks. So now .. what's the point in having a baby at all?"

A steely look passed over Doris' lined face. "Everything. I was pregnant in Nazi France and my whole family was shipped to camps in Germany. Nobody lived. I owed it to my son, that I kept going in the face of all danger and tyranny."

Normally, Melanie would have sneered and dismissed Doris' remark as mere ramblings, but she was different now. In the short space of two weeks, she felt older than ever before.

"I guess you're right."

"I'm always right."

Smoke began to fill the room, as Doris forgot about the steaks. She hastily flipped them over and put them in buns.

"Eat. I'll save some for whatever-his-name over there, thought it looks like he's had too many already."

Melanie forced a smile, and reluctantly ate the steak sandwich. Her exhaustion soon returned and she slowly sank into another fitful sleep. Her dreams were plagued with mountains of corpses, each with Daryl's face staring blankly at her. She longed to save him, but knew it was too late. When she awoke, her heart was racing, and Doris and Billy were asleep. The only sounds were the dull footsteps of the dead outside.

By morning, Melanie felt like she'd slept for ten years. Her energy was restored, and she almost managed a cheerful grin at Billy who ate his cold beef sandwich with ill-concealed gratitude. Doris was busy cleaning the small kitchen area, and for once Melanie felt like life had returned back to normal. The first week passed in a haze of timber cutting and preparation. It was too dangerous to go out in the woods alone for cutting trees, so Billy used the oaken furniture upstairs and erected formidable spikes and ditches outside the lodge. For all his faults, he worked hard and kept up the grudging respect for Doris and her lodge. Turns out she had been living there for years, and had kept some extra food stored away in a basement below the lodge, accessible by a trapdoor. She came across as gruff and aloof but Melanie could tell she was grateful for the company. As the weeks flew by, Melanie could begin to feel the baby kicking inside her and for the first time she felt a surge of hope at the prospect of being a mother.

Daryl may be buried in the past, but his legacy continued. Though secretly, Melanie knew if she ever did meet him she would slap him so hard for believing claptrap and his Dixon temper.

Forging their little hideout had lifted Melanie's spirits, and she soon began to conquer her fear of those freaks, or Walkers as she called them. The occasional one got caught on the spikes, and Billy suggested she should start killing them. He taught he how to handle his Military knives, and even Doris taught her how to handle and load a gun with a silencer. Obviously, Melanie was no Lara Croft, but she felt more confident in her abilities to survive this strange new world with her skills and knowledge. Doris was right, she owed it to her baby to be strong.

After almost a month, the trio sat around the fire in the living room and tucked into one of Doris' home-made soups she'd frozen. Whilst they were eating, Melanie offered to go outside and get some more firewood, something she would have refused to do two weeks ago. As she opened the door, a rush of wind caressed her face and she caught her reflection in the long glass windows; her dark roots had grown out, and her hair had grown two inches. She spied one of Billy's hunting knives, and was about to retrieve it to cut her hair when she heard footsteps ascending the hill.

Her heart went into overdrive, and expected to smell the bitter scent of death on the breeze but saw only a staggering body limping up the hill. Shakily, she grabbed the knife and slowly approached the Walker, taking deep-breaths to calm her nerves. However, as she got closer, the knife fell to the ground as she recognised the person before her; smeared in dry blood and bruises, and grinning wickedly, Merle Dixon sagged to his knees.

"Well, well, well … of all the people to run into … a damned hooker."

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Okay, there will be more action in the next chapter I promise! Please review :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **

**Wow! Thank-you so much for everyone's feedback and for the new followers! I truly appreciate it. You guys rock. Free digital cookies for all of you! **

**I've been thinking really hard over the past few days about the plot, and I've just about figured it out. Hope I don't disappoint. I also appreciate how hard it is to write a female OC in this fandom without going into Sue territory, and it's a huge challenge. I'm confident Melanie isn't going that way, but if anyone thinks otherwise please let me know! Anyways, here is chapter five. **

**As always, I love to hear your thoughts!**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Fire **

Merle Dixon moaned as he sank to the ground, his left hand cradling a bloody mass of rags covering his right. Despite his obvious pain, he managed a lopsided smirk as Melanie stared at his pitiful form with horror.

"You just gonna stand there?" he growled, attempting to stand but failing miserably.

As the shock of seeing the one person she loathed, and seeing Daryl Dixon's insufferable brother out of the blue wore off, she unstuck her throat and raised her knife in warning. She silently realised that two months ago, she feared to even make eye-contact with the redneck but now she stood above him like an Emperor delivering a death-sentence.

"The hell you doing here?" she asked coldly, surprised how calm her voice sounded.

Merle's doggish grin widened. "Was gonna ask myself … the same … question … this life is .. nothin' surprises ya."

He was slowly losing consciousness, and thick blood was slowly dripping from the soiled bandages. Knowing those creatures, they could smell blood a mile away and would swarm the lodge quicker than a fly to shit. Melanie knew she had two choices: leave Merle to the walkers and die a horrific death or bring him inside where Billy will no doubt kill Merle anyway. Grudgingly, she decided on the latter. At least she could fend off Billy, and demand some answers.

"You been bit by those freaks?" she said, forcing herself to kneel down to help Merle up. How she despised herself.

Merle locked his eyes on hers. "No. I fuckin' ran … I … was chained with handcuffs god-damnit … cut off my hand … damn cop." His ramblings were a bad sign, and ignoring all animosity, Melanie helped Merle to his feet. He swayed drunkenly on her shoulders, learning his full-weight against her tiny frame.

"Shut it, we're going up here to sort you out."

The lodge was only twenty yards away but it felt like twenty miles. Finally, Melanie dragged the sagging form of Merle through the door where he accidentally banged his forehead. As she expected, Billy's head clocked their presence and he froze like a wolf sensing prey. He leapt to his feet, knife drawn, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously as Melanie pushed Merle onto a pouffe. Doris swept over, placing a cushion behind Merle's bloody back.

"Dixon?!" cried Billy in disbelief, standing above Merle. "What are you doing here?"

Even Melanie flinched at the loathing dripping in his tone, but Merle merely smirked.

"Has he been bit?" Doris asked Melanie as she slowly began to undress Merle's wound.

"No … but he said he'd ran away from them, I- "

"Coward," spat Billy, "should have left him to rot outside - "

"And that would lead every Walker here," quipped Melanie. Her temple was beginning to throb, every time Billy tested her patience. "I had no choice. Now put that knife away, Billy"

Billy made a noise of disgust. "Why the hell are you helpin' him, Melly? He'd let you die out there."

She didn't answer. She had no idea why she was helping Merle, but even she wouldn't leave her worst enemy to those creatures. She had nothing to cling onto, except any shred of human kindness left in this world.

"Questions can come later," Melanie said forcefully. An almighty growl of pain vent the air as Doris unveiled the wound to the elements; clumps of melted flesh deluged in blood hung limply off what was once Merle's right hand. Infection had begun to set in, creating a smell identical to when the Walkers were near.

"He tried to cauterize it," Doris muttered, as her wrinkled fingers worked furiously with some fresh bandages from an old first aid kit. "If he hadn't, he'd of died of blood poisoning. Try not to scream," she spoke loudly to Merle's drooping form. Before he could protest, she doused the wound with a wet cloth, and applied antiseptic. Merle's face was one of sheer frustration, but the old lady merely grinned at the sweating redneck. "You're one tough ol' son-of-a-bitch but now your'e as helpless as a kitten. I've put fresh bandages on that stump, and it's your funeral if you choose to remove them."

"Don't compliment him, lady. He's a cunt," Billy growled from the corner of the room. "Mark my words."

Doris ignored him, and set Merle up against the cushions as he gave way to sleep. Melanie observed him quietly, wondering where he'd come from and if he could be the answer to finding Daryl. Maybe, just maybe he was alive.

* * *

It took three whole days for Merle to come round. Billy stormed around the lodge in a quiet rage, flashing the redneck's body dirty looks, whilst stroking his speargun. Doris maintained a powerful presence, tending to Merle's wound and keeping a strong vigil on Billy's hostile behaviour. Melanie meanwhile kept the lodge in order, her respect growing each day for the old lady; how Doris managed to keep two vile-tempered men in check was anyone's guess, especially in these times. The woman was a natural, and Melanie doubted Doris would treat Merle any differently whether she knew him or not. Luckily the son-of-a-bitch hadn't lead every Walker within miles, and they waited out the rest of Merle's healing in uneasy silence.

On the third day, when the sun had begun to set behind the trees, Merle finally came round. Doris was in the process of changing his bandages, when panic set in and he made a swing for the old lady who dodged his blow with ease. Her calm composure flickered slightly, and she slapped Merle smartly across the cheek.

"Hey, we'll none of that," she barked.

Merle's face crumpled in anger. "The hell are you, lady?"

"Your saviour, and you're welcome."

"The fuck you on about? Get off me!" he tried to stand, but tripped over his feet and fell onto the sofa. "Where the hell am I?"

"You don't remember?" piped up Melanie who'd been watching this exchange with some trepidation. When Merle looked at her, his face blanched with rage.

"_You! _What are you doing here?"

"I live here and we saved your sorry ass, you ungrateful shit. Found you outside."

It took several moments for Merle to process this information. Melanie could almost hear the cogs working furiously in his head, and when all clicked into place, his expression clouded over.

"Well .. well … well isn't this a happy reunion," he crowed, as Billy stood next to Melanie like a bodyguard. "Billy Mckenzie … and … my brother's whore."

Silence, like a great hand pressed across a mouth struggling to give vent to a scream, filled the room.

Billy turned a stunned face to Melanie. "The hell is he calling you his brother's whore?"

"Because … because … we ..." A flush was crawling up Melanie's neck, as Billy's eyes burned into hers. The same rage, the same hurt contoured every line on his face as Melanie remembered Billy's vow to get his revenge on the Dixon brothers for leading his wife to an overdose. But those problems felt like a million years ago. So petty. So useless.

"No you wasn't, she was fucking every guy in town behind my brother's back you were," Merle sneered, stalking over. "Did she not tell you that Billy? Oh … and how's the wifey doing?"

Melanie knew Merle was picking for a fight, a tactic she'd seen constantly on Daryl but Billy was standing as if carved from stone. His face mask-like, and was watching the older Dixon closely as if deciding which way he could kill him the most painfully. "Don't matter what Melly did," he replied, ice chipping every syllable. "I always knew it was you who killed Brandine and I made a promise. Scum like you selling your shit in my bar with your little cronies. Such a big man."

Despite her mounting fear, Melanie felt a wave of admiration for Billy for not blaming Daryl. He never got involved with Merle's drug-dealing, despite being a Dixon but Billy would always be a man defined by his temper. A strange, murderous look glittered in his eyes as the two men squared each other up. The calm before the storm.

Doris, who could smell danger quicker than a fox, was hovering by the large dresser where her guns were kept, watching the exchange warily. She boldly stepped forward, hitching up her utility belt.

"Hey! I don't want no fighting! What's the point anymore?"

Merle twisted an agitated face towards Doris. "You really need to know when to shut the hell up you old bat."

"She saved you!" Melanie spat, unable to contain herself as Doris' jaw dropped. "She saved your sorry ass!"

"And I thank-you," Merle replied, then without warning he turned and struck the old woman across the face. Blood spurted from her nose, as she flew across the room, hitting the dresser and causing the box containing the guns to fall out. Merle spied them in an instant, scooping them up and grinning madly.

"Thank-you indeed, old lady," he muttered, holding the pistols with his working arm. "She really is my saviour."

Melanie could feel tears starting to sting her eyes, and she shamefully wiped them away. She stood close to Billy who was clutching his speargun with white knuckles.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she screamed at the redneck, as Merle began to load the pistols. "What is wrong with you?"

"It was nothin' personal," shrugged Merle. "Needed to shut up."

Melanie was about to reach for Billy's military knife when there was an almighty crash behind Merle. A mass of dark bodies materialised behind the shattered glass of a window close to Doris, clawing their way to enter the lodge. They were advancing, arms outstretched, jaws chomping like ravenous wolves, hollow growls rattling from torn throats.

"Oh fuck!" cursed Melanie, as Merle promptly fired at one of the freaks stepping through the splintered glass. "You fuckin' idiot Merle, you drew them here when you fuckin' hit Doris!"

"We have no time," cried Billy, as more of the Walkers spilled in through the gap. Another window shattered and the group of zombies began to feast on Doris' immobile body. Melanie watched in horror as they tore open her stomach, intestines hanging from their blackened mouths. She would have screamed, but Billy was grabbing her arm, forcing her to run. Merle was bringing up the rear, and as they tore out of the lodge another swarm of Walkers appeared from the trees behind them. They were surrounded.

Billy killed a few on the front-line, aiming carefully for their skulls but as one Walker fell, another replaced it. Melanie was cowering behind Billy's towering form, as Merle fired rounds close by. It was no use; the Walkers from the lodge had joined the swarm and they were now cornered around Billy's truck.

"Get up!" he hollered to Melanie, offering his arm for her to stand on. She hoisted herself on top of the truck, watching in terror as Merle and Billy failed to fight off the horde.

"Just get in!" she yelled to Billy, as he swiftly loaded his last batch of bullets. "Get in the truck!" He nodded at her words, but before he could aim, Merle kicked him in the chest. He skidded the length of the horde, and the Walkers descended upon his body quicker than Doris'. This gave the redneck enough time to leap into the driver's seat and growl the engine to life. The truck jerked forward, and Melanie fell heavily onto her stomach. She felt her belly in horror and Merle caught her eye from within the truck.

"Get in!" he snarled, flinging the passenger door open. There was no time to decide which was worse; being ripped to shreds by Walkers or stuck with Merle Dixon. The only thing Melanie could think about was her bruised stomach and she leapt into the truck, ducking as a Walker made to grab her. Their hiss-growls, air forced through stiff vocal cords, filled the air with the sound that was synonymous with death.

"You best hold on tight, missy," Merle growled as he reversed, knocking over three Walkers. He violently accelerated, and the truck tore through the swarming horde, providing them an escape route They skidded down the dirt-track, clouds of dust swimming in the air as they blazed through the abandoned Lodge Camp. Melanie took one last look of her destroyed sanctuary, and curled herself in Billy's red driving jacket, idly caressing the loose strands on the sleeves. She felt Merle glancing her way, but Melanie ignored him. She wanted to scream till her throat ripped, to cry till her eyes bled, to batter Merle till he was nothing more than flesh but there was nothing left inside. She simply sat there, gazing out the window like the night she left Deersville, feeling just as hollow as her swollen stomach.

"Have some water," Merle muttered as they drove in silence for two hours. He threw a bottle onto her lap. Melanie stared at it blankly. "Whatever. Die of thirst. See if I care. Don't know why I saved your sorry ass."

Melanie ignored him, but suddenly felt white-hot pain surge through her abdomen. "Pull over!" she snapped as they sped along a deserted highway. "Pull over now!"

"What? No way!"

"Pull over now or I will plunge this knife into your throat," she snarled, slamming a penknife onto the dashboard. Merle raised his eyebrows and reluctantly pulled over.

"What's stopping me from leavin' your sorry ass here?" he yelled as Melanie stumbled out of the truck. She ignored him, and doubled over as a wave of vomit spewed from her mouth, tinged with blood. She sank to her knees, as another load of sick spilled down her mouth. Pain rattled through her body like live-snakes, and her throat felt like it was on fire. This wasn't right. Nobody threw up blood during pregnancy, and she never suffered from morning sickness.

"The hell's wrong with you woman?"

Melanie didn't answer. She didn't even _know _the answer. All she did know was that Merle had possibly destroyed the one thing she had cherished, the one thing she had left of Daryl.

She arose.

"Answer me damnit, the hell is wrong - ?" Merle had wandered over, carrying a plastic bag but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Melanie. Piles of blood-soaked vomit were splattered on her clothes and face, and her bloodshot eyes were filled with tears of pain.

"You killed it!" she cried hoarsely, pointing a shaking finger at him as the other cradled her belly. "The baby was Daryl's … it was always Daryl's and now youv'e killed it!"

Merle's derisive face flickered momentarily. "Oh come on, Missy I ain't no fool. That baby ain't Daryl's."

"Of course it is you … cunt .. mother … fucker … you never understand. Never."

"Stop rambling, missy and hold still." Merle stomped over and produced a soiled scarf from his pocket. He roughly wiped Melanie's mouth but she pulled away from him as if scalded. "Fine," he spat, raising his hands and throwing the scarf at her. Melanie grabbed at it in defiance, and patted down her stained clothes as Merle waited impatiently.

"Yous in a right state, woman."

"I'm fine."

"No you ain't. We're going back."

"Oh yes we are."

Ignoring her protests, Merle slung Melanie over his shoulder and carried her back to the truck. He clumsily placed her limp form into the passenger seat and doused her face with a damp cloth and wiped away the vomit stains. Melanie welcomed the cool sensation slipping over her burning skin. Summoning her energy, she quirked an eyebrow at Merle.

"The hell you doing this for?"

Merle seemed to be struggling with himself. He shrugged. "Dunno. I'm askin' myself the same question. Now hold still."

He supported Melanie's head with Billy's driving jacket. Satisfied she was secure, he slammed the door and slumped into the driver's seat to light a cigarette. Melanie watched him silently, as the pain in her stomach began to fade. The older Dixon appeared lost in thought, as if berating himself over his sudden acts of kindness. How unlike his brother, he was.

"Merle," Melanie said weakly, "I need to ask you something."

Merle grunted, which Melanie took for "yes."

"Is ... is Daryl alive? Was he with you, before ..."

She expected another grunt, but Merle had gone still.

"Merle?"

"Yeah he was with me ... but he ain't alive ... not anymore."

* * *

A/N: well of course Daryl _isn't _dead guys so don't worry, but obviously Merle is a ... well being Merle.

ALSO I highly doubt I would let Melanie lose the baby so early on in the story, otherwise there would be no point in this fic so don't worry.

AND Let me know how you think this chapter went. :)


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